A Hairline Sound

The ice in my second glass,

cheap whiskey sloshing,

made that sound.

Not a clink, but a splinter.

A quiet break, a sigh

from deep inside the cube,

something giving way.

Like the first crack in a dam

you didn't know was there.

It happens so fast, you almost miss it.

Just a brief, sharp splinter.

Then it settles, everything

calm again, but changed.

The cold, still there.